Besides, how can one describe the sharp, stinging sensation of injustice?
Summer is the least liked season in this part of the world (at least by me). ‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day’ would seem like an insult here. Heat,dust and dust storms, sweat and smells,mosquitoes, flies, cockroaches, creepy crawlies and so on. When the sun blazes down upon the earth, not only men and beast but also plants look tired and droopy. While spring and monsoon (rainy) seasons are feted by poets and writers, no major festivals or celebrations are held during summers. I wish I could sleep away the summers in a cool, dark room.
When we were children, summers were fun. Long vacations, visiting relatives, playing with friends and cousins. Huge meals, ice creams and puddings, fruits like mangoes, melons, watermelons, peaches, litchis etc, salads, refreshing drinks like squashes, buttermilk etc. made life bliss. We slept in the open liberally smeared with Odomos and mustard oil, studying the stars, listening to the sound of night birds and insects, giggling and talking, listening to grandma’s stories while the table fan whirred noisily nearby. We played in the sun, heat rashes, fever were a small price to pay for the enjoyment and freedom
I try not to get attached to any material things but some things become favourites- books, art material, gifts from loved ones.
Since I suffer from celiac disease, I carry my home- cooked food. I am an artist, so I carry a drawing copy, pencils, colors and so on. Besides, I need sunscreen, sunglasses, tissues, hankies, sanitiser, water bottle, wallet and last but not the least- lots of reading material. So I am the lady with the large bag.